


Breaking the Spell

by Heatherlly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:56:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heatherlly/pseuds/Heatherlly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She returned home as a ghost of herself, baffling everyone with her senseless obsession for the unknown Prince Arthur. Only one man refused to give up until he discovered the truth behind the stranger who stood in Lady Vivian's place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking the Spell

**Title:** Breaking the Spell  
 **Category:** Het (Canon)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Idris/Lady Vivian  
 **Rating/Warnings:** K+  
 **Summary:** She returned home as a ghost of herself, baffling everyone with her senseless obsession for the unknown Prince Arthur. Only one man refused to give up until he discovered the truth behind the stranger who stood in Lady Vivian's place.

* * *

#  **Breaking the Spell**

* * *

No one knew what truly ailed the Lady Vivian.

Most thought it was love; indeed, she'd spent those first few weeks after the royal party's return from Camelot floating about the castle with a dreamy look on her face, proclaiming to anyone and everyone that Arthur Pendragon was her heart's desire, the man she was meant to marry someday.

With sparkling eyes and a gentle curve to her lips, she'd whisper in quiet awe about his unfathomable goodness, wax poetic about his unfailing bravery, enumerate his seemingly endless virtues… until everyone from the most ingratiating courtier to the lowliest scullery maid began to go to great lengths to avoid any encounter with their besotted mistress.

Before long, there was only one who devoted himself willingly to Vivian's musings, no matter how much it broke his heart to listen. The handsome young stable boy with the gentle green eyes and soft brown curls would stare at her in bewilderment, wondering what had happened to the Vivian who'd departed only a few weeks before... the beautiful girl who had glanced back at him, and _only_ him, with a sad little smile, before turning her eyes to the journey ahead.

Vivian... the girl who had loved him.

That Vivian, _his_ Vivian, had chafed at her gilded cage for as long as he could remember, storming about the castle demanding exacting standards, throwing harsh insults at anyone who crossed her path... petty, unreasonable behavior that only the quiet young stable boy realized was nothing more than a disguise for the sweet spirit underneath. No, his Vivian had  never been cruel by nature, only ill-suited to a life of privileged inactivity, endless standards and protocol, and most of all, suffocated by the constant vigilance of her overprotective father.

Idris had seen them come and go, those hopeful young suitors he despised, even though he couldn't blame them for their interest in the girl he'd never seen as anything less than a stunning beauty. One by one, they'd been driven away by King Olaf's intimidating presence, most with nothing more than a few well-chosen words... though the fiercely possessive monarch was rumored to have chased one unusually persistent man down with a knife.

It was ironic then, that the very thing Olaf would have feared the most, had been happening right under his nose for quite some time. He viewed the sons of other kings and high lords with the utmost suspicion, hovered tirelessly whenever a young knight came anywhere near the Lady Vivian... and yet, he never seemed to spare a thought for the lowly stable boy that accompanied his precious daughter on her daily rides.

Perhaps it might've been insulting if Idris had given it much thought, but there simply wasn't room in his heart for anything but gratitude for the freedom the King's dismissive attitude granted to both himself and Vivian. Day after day, they'd ride together for hours, talking and laughing as brilliant sunshine poured down upon their heads... hers glinting like gold in the warm light of a sunny afternoon, his like burnished mahogany.

Then they'd stop somewhere, maybe on a soft patch of grass beside a babbling brook, or when they happened upon a meadow full of wildflowers. Sometimes they'd hide themselves in a dusky thicket, concealed by the towering trees that spread a soothing green canopy all around them, or even take refuge in a cave where he'd build a cheerful fire to warm her on a winter's day.

It would begin when he reached up to help her dismount. Her feet would touch the ground and she'd linger in his arms, rather than immediately stepping away as she was forced to do when they were surrounded by watchful eyes. Idris would kiss her then, soft and slow, savoring lovely lips it seemed he'd been craving for a lifetime, even though he'd had the privilege of enjoying them just the day before.

What happened after that was always a blur of blissful sensations – his rough hands sliding over her silky skin, her muted sighs of pleasure, whispered secrets and promises that were only theirs to know. Even in the middle of nowhere, with no threat of discovery, they held their love as a closely guarded secret... not just in reminder of the danger it represented, but also because their time together was far too precious to treat as something ordinary.

No, they could never be like the couples who strolled outside the palace, hands casually joined, leaning in for a kiss whenever they felt the need with no thought for who might be observing their actions. Nothing passed between Idris and Vivian that either could take for granted, and so they approached any expression of their feelings with a quiet sense of awe.

It hadn't been that way in the beginning. No, when Idris had first been assigned as an escort for the Lady Vivian, she'd treated him with the same cold contempt she leveled at everyone else. Patiently, he'd endured her daily tirades, showing tolerance for her fits of ill temper, yet never shrinking from her wrath. He simply smiled in response to her sniping, then performed whatever task she demanded without a trace of resentment. It was that endless graciousness, a kindness that went far beyond the forced courtesies of others, that had finally broken through her carefully erected defenses.

"You're not afraid of me," she'd snapped at him one day, right on the heels of a flurry of complaints about a small blemish on her saddle, the roughness of the reins she claimed were chafing her tiny hands, and even his hair, of all things. "Why aren't you afraid of me? Everyone else is. They all hate me."

Idris had glanced up from the nonexistent spot he'd been carefully wiping from the flawlessly polished saddle. "I don't hate you."

"You mean that," she responded slowly, something vulnerable flickering ever so briefly in her dark eyes, before she turned her head with a derisive snort. "Maybe you're just too stupid to understand who I am... what could happen to you, if I said just one word to my father. I could... I could..."

"But you wouldn't. No matter what you might like to pretend, I don't think you truly wish to hurt anyone. And that is why I don't hate you."

Even though she hadn't spoken another word, choosing to glare at him coldly before she galloped away, that had been the moment that had changed everything.

It happened slowly... demands that turned into requests, then finally, favors that were voiced with an appealing smile and a "Please?" It was the sadness she kept carefully hidden at first, creeping out into the open with nothing more than a soft sigh and a wistful gaze into the distance, eventually transforming into a series of heartfelt confessions that couldn't have been responded to with anything but love.

And then somehow, the day had come when she'd given him her heart.

What followed in the aftermath, the stolen moments they'd shared for well over a year, had been unbelievably pleasurable and exquisitely painful, all at the same time. Usually they held to their unspoken agreement never to speak of it, to make the most of their short hours together without allowing bittersweet reminders to penetrate the warm glow of the love that grew steadily stronger as the months passed. But it was always there, just beneath the surface... the cold, hard truth of desperately longing for a future that could never be.

When it became too much... too overwhelming to hold inside any longer, Vivian would weep in his arms. Idris would hold her close to his heart, murmuring soothing words that meant nothing, because they couldn't change the fact that she was royal, bound to a world where he didn't belong. He'd never be accepted as a worthy choice for her, and she couldn't break free of the chains that held her fast to her highborn status, a life of supposed privilege that handed her everything on a silver platter except for the only thing she'd ever truly wanted.

... the freedom to choose for herself.

The reality of their situation _should_ have been enough to keep them apart, well aware that their feelings could only end in heartbreak. But it wasn't. Expectation couldn't conquer desire... hopelessness didn't negate the yearning... and the threat of a furious king, and all the dire consequences he could rain down on both their heads, seemed pale in comparison with the pain of relinquishing the love they shared.

For all those reasons, Idris simply couldn't understand Vivian's change of heart… not after everything that had passed between them. True, he'd tried to brace himself for the day she'd have to marry according to her station... but when that time came, he'd always expected it to be a somber occasion for them both, a bitter inevitability that she'd never choose for herself. Despite the impossibility of any future in the feelings they shared, however, there'd never been a moment when he'd doubted the loyalty of her heart.

How had she been gone for no more than a week, only to return without a trace of affection for him? How had she become so completely captivated by this... _Arthur_ , some unknown prince, who represented everything _his_ Vivian had spent her entire life trying to escape from?

Heartbroken and bewildered, he'd listened as she'd gushed endlessly about her new love, speaking of power and wealth, impeccable bloodlines and far-reaching influence... all the things she'd once sworn she despised. He tried to tell himself that he should simply accept her change of heart, that he should even be glad she'd chosen someone of her own station, a suitor who'd present no obstacles when her father finally decided she was ready to marry.

But he just couldn't bow out gracefully. He _knew_ Vivian, had always understood the stubborn heart that required a great deal more than shallow virtues to surrender to the potential for love that was contained within. Yes, he knew firsthand how much patience it took to break through her defenses, to earn her trust, to expose who she really was inside... the only part of her that was even capable of the vulnerability it would take to give her heart to another.

More than that even, the Vivian that had fallen in love with _him_ had been tender and thoughtful, a girl grown into a woman in front of his eyes. She certainly hadn't been anything like this vacant eyed shell of a person who rode beside him now, prattling on about strong muscles and a handsome face, staring at him in confusion when he began to ask her questions about Arthur's personality.

"What are his favorite activities?"

Vivian giggled. "Kissing me."

Idris closed his eyes and tried to banish the mental image. He _really_ hadn't needed to hear that.

"No, Vivian, what I mean is... does he like to hunt? Fish? Does he like to read, or does he prefer to spend his time outdoors? Does he enjoy music?

"You know, I didn't think to ask!" she exclaimed, her eyes growing wide in sudden distress. "Oh, I hope he doesn't think me rude for not..."

"I'm sure he doesn't," Idris interrupted in a gentle voice. "You only had a few days together, after all. I'm sure there wasn't time to speak of everything." _Especially if he was too busy sticking his tongue in your mouth_ , he added silently, immediately struggling to banish the thought.

Vivian sighed wistfully. "What does it matter, anyway? We're in love!"

Idris dropped the line of questioning, for no other reason than realizing it was getting him nowhere. It was useless; he'd once been able to talk to Vivian about anything, but now it was as if a stranger sat in her place… like a spell had been cast over her during her time in Camelot, some powerful enchantment that he lacked the power to penetrate.

And then, it hit him in a flash. _Of course... what other explanation could there possibly be?_

Later that afternoon, when he'd brought Vivian safely back to the castle, Idris retrieved the small bag of coins that amounted to his life's savings, then set out for a small, rickety shack on the outskirts of town that he normally avoided at all costs. The old woman who answered the door, stooped and grizzled with a wild cloud of shockingly white hair that reached her waist, peered up at him with watery gray eyes filled with suspicion.

"What do you want?" she snapped rudely.

Idris met her bad temper with his most gentle, endearing smile. "Knowledge. That's all."

"I don't have time for..." But she trailed off as he shook his pocket, her eyes alighting with interest at the distinctive jingle of coins. "Well, might could spare a minute. Come on inside."

For as long as Idris could remember, the townsfolk had gossiped about the strange woman who never seemed to leave her tiny hut. It was rumored that she was a witch, though due to the fact that she'd never _technically_ been caught using magic, she went largely undisturbed. Magic might be outlawed, but King Olaf was not the type of ruler to condemn anyone without proof... unlike King Uther, who it was told wouldn't hesitate to execute men, women, and children alike based upon the merest suspicion of sorcery.

Idris stepped into the cluttered room, breathing in the surprisingly fragrant odors wafting from the large bundles of herbs that hung from the walls and ceiling. The woman gestured vaguely at a rough wooden stool and he sat down, waiting politely for her to speak first.

"Well?"

"I... I came to ask about... that is, I wanted to know about love spells. Enchantments that would cause one person to fall in love with another."

She fixed him with a disapproving look, her eyes suddenly so cold that he cringed beneath their icy stare.

"And what do you want to be knowing that for?" she demanded. "If you're wanting to take advantage of some poor girl who doesn't..."

"No, no!" Idris exclaimed hastily. "I would never... I came here because I'm afraid someone I care about is under the effects of one of these enchantments. I was hoping you could tell me how to break it."

"Sore loser, eh?" the old woman cackled at him. "If she wants someone else, nothing you can do to break that. Don't matter how much gold you've got there in your pocket; nothing I can tell you except to get over it."

"But I have reason to believe..." he started defensively, then stopped and shook his head. There was no way to explain it properly without taking the chance of revealing who he was speaking of. "Look," he said instead. "I am certain of this. So certain that I'm willing to give you every last coin I have if you'll just answer my question. _If_ someone is under the effects of a love spell, how might it be broken?"

She stared at him in surprise as he laid twenty gold coins on the table, then pushed them in her direction. "There's hundreds of love spells," she said slowly, her face softening in a moment of thoughtfulness. "Not all of them are broken the same way, but with the exception of a few, a kiss from the one the enchanted soul truly loves will break the spell."

"That's all?" Idris questioned in disbelief. "No fancy potions? No incantations?"

The old woman shook her head, her mouth contorting into something he wasn't sure was a grimace or a smile. "True love is the strongest magic there is. If that doesn't do it, nothing will."

And he departed with a word of thanks, leaving behind his meager savings as he wondered how he was supposed to convince Vivian to kiss him when she was enraptured with someone else. In the end, he waited for their ride the following day, suffering through the seemingly endless night without a wink of sleep, desperately hoping his instincts were correct. For if Vivian didn't respond in kind, that would mean she really _was_ in love with the prince named Arthur... and that was a disappointment Idris was quite certain he couldn't bear.

When she slid off her horse into his arms, complete with a colorful description of how Arthur's fingers had accidentally brushed her breast when he'd helped her dismount back in Camelot, Idris seized the opportunity her open mouth presented, responding to her with a deep, passionate kiss.

Vivian sputtered in outrage. She shoved roughly at his chest as the hope drained out of him, replaced by hollow disappointment that brought a suspicious dampness to his eyes. But then like a warm blanket on a frigid winter night, her body relaxed and melted into him. Softly, hungrily, she murmured her approval as she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers entwining restlessly in his dark curls. 

When he finally let go, pulling back to read the truth in her eyes that was already unmistakable in the tenderness he'd felt in her touch, she stared back at him with a dazed, bewildered expression, trusting him and _only_ him to give her the answers she needed.

"Wh... what happened? Idris?"

It was there in her voice at long last, the way she spoke his name like a caress. _Idris_ … he'd cherished the sound a hundred times in the past, that loving lilt in a simple word. It warmed him right down to his toes as he reached out to draw her into a comforting embrace.

"You were enchanted, darling," he murmured softly, burying his face in her hair. "That's all. I can't pretend to know why, but it's over now."

"I actually thought that _Arthur_..." She shook her head against his chest as she trailed off in disbelief. "How could I have possibly...? Oh Idris, I'm so sorry!"

He kissed the top of her head and smiled. "You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing."

"You know I've never loved anyone else. Only you."

"I know," he whispered as he held her close, thanking the old witch, his own intuition, and everything from the sky above his head to the ground beneath his feet that he finally had his Vivian back. "You don't have to explain anything to me."

But suddenly, she pulled out of his arms, peeking up at him almost shyly from beneath her long lashes. "There is one thing. Arthur..."

He started to shake his head, but she stopped him short with that stubborn, unyielding expression he knew all too well and loved to the bottom of his soul. "Just listen," she said, something that could only be described as bossiness creeping into her tone. Idris grinned, then bowed his head in submission as he waited to hear what she had to say.

"Arthur must have been enchanted, too," she said, looking slightly ashamed as she spoke. "There was a servant... I was rude to her, but well, we won't talk about that. Arthur was in love with her, and I... even if my feelings for him were just an enchantment, he's still a good man. A courageous man. I don't think he'd let anyone tell him who he could and couldn't love, even if he is a prince. And I don't think I should either."

"What are you saying? You know your father would never..."

"I can't live the life my father chooses for me. I can't go on pretending to care about any of that... my station, all the rules and expectations. That's not who I am. Who I _really_ am... what I truly want... that's something I've only ever found with you. And I don't want to lose it. If... if you'll have me, I will leave with you tonight. Anywhere in the world you want to go, Idris. I don't care, as long as we're together."

Wild hope surged in his chest as he stared at her in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been so certain of anything in my life."

"But..." he started, feeling the last traces of hesitance melting away beneath the truth of his love for her, the overwhelming need to never be without her again. "I have nothing," he finished weakly. "I don't have a coin to my name, or... what can I give you?"

She smiled, reaching out to cup his cheek in her soft little hand. "The only thing I've ever wanted."

When the sun sank beneath the horizon, after dinner had been consumed and all the inhabitants of the castle were tucked safely into their beds, a small figure with a mass of golden curls crept silently through the empty corridors, then out into the deserted street and into her lover's waiting arms.

Hand in hand, they slipped away into the night without looking back.


End file.
